I heard the ravens calling south,
And crows and jackdaws called as loud.
They tumbled off towards the scar,
And hung on uplifts by the cliff.
I heard the promise of the clouds,
The tick of wheatear, buzz of wire,
The ceaseless flowing of the grass,
The voice of bees, the songs of breeze.
The sounds were here, were always here,
Were here when Romans piled their stones,
And here to carry off the screams
Of sacrifice to temple gods.
I heard the ravens call the rain,
I heard them call through time again.